The Proposition
by Power of the Wol
Summary: Governor Swann is granted permission to officially welcome Davy Jones to Port Royal, but this is just a cover for a daring deal.
1. Chapter 1: The Deal

**Power: Reading "To the Depths" is not a requirement, but it is recommended.  
I wrote this story as an AU AWE sub(ish)-plot. How I can write an AU AWE sub-plot without seeing the movie beforehand defies explanation, but I wanted to go ahead with it anyway.  
1) Because this is unlikely to be used in the movie. If it is, I will be very freaked out.  
2) Because Weatherby Swann is a stronger character than he's given credit for. So I wanted to write something to show it.**

Chapter 1: The Deal

Lord Cutler Beckett stared across the harbour of Port Royal from the balcony of his office. The Flying Dutchman was anchored a little way off shore, longboats bustling back and forth ferrying goods from and crewmen to the harbour. In a short while, the Dutchman would be ready to set sail, under the command of James Norrington.  
His attention was drawn away from the sight by a knock on the door. "Enter."  
It was Mercer. "Governor Swann would like to see you."  
"Send him in."  
He disappeared briefly and re-entered with Swann in tow.  
"How can I help you, Governor Swann?"  
"I came here to ask you if I could request an audience with our newest visitor."  
Beckett frowned, exchanging a confused look with Mercer. "Davy Jones? What do you want with him?"  
"I was thinking it would be a good idea if I were to formally welcome him to Port Royal. Considering as welcoming notable guests is one of my official duties as Governor, don't you agree that it would be. . . beneficial for the residents to see me acting as I would normally?"  
Beckett conceded the point with a nod. Swann had never struck him as a 'brave' man and certainly, deliberately seeking the company of Davy Jones was something that required courage. Perhaps it was just Swann's overpowering curiosity that was getting the better of him. He pondered the request and decided that he could not see the harm in letting the two talk. Perhaps seeing Jones in the flesh would scare Swann into being more compliant. "I do agree. Very well, permission granted."  
Swann beamed. "Excellent. You wouldn't happen to know if he likes red wine?"

Weatherby Swann stared out across the bay to where the Dutchman was currently anchored, a bottle of Scottish whiskey clutched in one hand. He had a sent one of the longboats back to notify Jones of his intentions and was waiting for its arrival. It was not long in returning. The crewman who had identified himself as Koleniko informed him that Jones was agreeable to an official welcome, and was to come across in the longboat if it was not too much trouble.  
Swann stared down at Koleniko and the longboat, discomforted by the prospect of getting into it, for it had clearly been underwater a lot, and by the prospect of sharing space with the cursed crewman. But he did not have much choice in the matter, so he got in.  
The hand that Koleniko offered to help him down into the boat was deathly cold, wet and above all, slimy. He suppressed a shudder and sat down. Something squelched beneath him and it was too his credit that he did not yelp and shoot back up again.  
Koleniko, oblivious to the Governor's discomfort, pushed away from the jetty and began to row out to the Dutchman.

The legendary ship was every bit as imposing as the stories had made it out to be and then some. Weatherby Swann swallowed. Suddenly this seemed a bad idea. A ladder was thrown down to him. As was to be expected with everything Dutchman-related, it sported numerous sea life. Swann sighed and ascended the ladder as best he could with one free hand.  
Another crewman was waiting for him. This was one was turning into a hammerhead shark. Swann guessed, as he took the proffered lobster-leg-like-fingered hand, that was not the Captain, but equally not a simple deckhand and decided that this was likely to be Jones' First Mate.  
"Thank you. Am I correct in assuming you're the First Mate?"  
The shark-man looked surprised. "Good guess."  
"And where is Captain Jones, pray tell?"  
"Waiting for you. Follow me."  
"You didn't tell me your name."  
The First Mate held out his other, more human hand, grinning toothily. "First Mate of the Flying Dutchman, Mr. Maccus."  
Swann smiled back and shook hands. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Maccus."  
He was lead to the helm where Davy Jones was sitting before a table that had clearly been thrown together.  
"I'm aware that this is not to your usual standards, Governor, but I hope it will suffice," Jones drawled in his Scottish accent.  
Governor Swann nodded and smiled, feeling slighted by the fact that Jones had not got to his feet to greet him.  
The Captain gestured to the chair opposite him. "Please take a seat. I asked for it especially." Evidently he had also asked for one for himself as well.  
That was something at least. Jones had not completely forgotten common courtesy. He sat down at the makeshift table and placed the bottle down on it for Jones to see. Swann smiled when he saw the Scotsman's eyes light up.  
"Dare I ask. . . ? Is that Scottish whiskey?"  
"It is. I wasn't able to procure the name of your favourite brand, unfortunately. Will that do?"  
"It certainly will," he replied picking the bottle up to inspect it. "Mr. Maccus, I believe we have some tankards in the hold."  
"Aye, Captain."  
"Oh, I won't have any, thank you," Swann said, hastily.  
"One for me, then. And get one for yourself."  
Maccus beamed and stepped to it.  
Jones placed the bottle back on the table and lent back in his chair, regarding the Governor with ice-blue eyes. "Now tell me, Governor, what has compelled you to seek out an audience with me?"  
Swann stared back innocently. "What do you mean?"  
"I know you have an ulterior motive. A man such as yourself would not come out here to seek an audience with the feared Davy Jones, just to say "Hello"."  
Weatherby sighed. "Am I really that obvious?"  
"About as obvious as uttering the summoning rhyme."  
That alarmed him. "Does this mean that Beckett knows?"  
Jones scoffed. "I doubt it. I've been around longer than the pair of you put together. I've seen all kinds of men willing to make deals for this, that, and the other. As such, I can tell when someone comes to me with the intention of striking a deal."  
Maccus reappeared with two tankards in hand.  
"Good timing, Maccus. Our friend here was just about to reveal his hidden agenda."  
"Oh good. I haven't missed anything," he replied pouring himself and Jones some whiskey.  
"You were saying, Governor."  
"My offer is to reunite you with your heart and ultimately your freedom."  
Without meaning too, he had timed that revelation to catch the pair in mid-swallow of a swig of whiskey. Maccus spat it out and gaped at him. Jones on the other hand, attempted to utter an exclamation of surprise and swallow whiskey at the same time, but had to settle for choking it down instead. He thumped himself in the chest, coughing, and blinked back tears. "Could you repeat that? I don't think I heard you properly."  
So he did.  
"In my experience, no-one does anything for nothing, least of myself. What do you want in exchange?"  
"My daughter. She's out there somewhere. She left Port Royal in pursuit of her fiancé and they told me that she has got or could get mixed up in some nasty business. Becket promised her safety in exchange for my loyalty to the East India Trading Company. But I don't trust him."  
Jones tilted his head to one side. If Bootstrap Bill Turner had been there to council Swann, he would have informed the Governor that this was a positive sign. "And you trust me?"  
"You've never gone back on your word," he replied simply.  
Jones smiled; good answer. "I'm curious though, you don't seem too concerned about the fate of your future son-in-law."  
"I'm sure young William Turner can take-"  
"William Turner!?"  
Swann blinked, surprised at the hostility in the Captain's tone. "You know him?"  
"If we are indeed talking about the same Turner, aye, I know him. Both of them in fact."  
"The William Turner I'm referring to went off after Jack Sparrow. I'm sure-"  
"Jack Sparrow!?" Apparently the name was as displeasing as William Turner's.  
"So we are talking about the same Turner, then."  
"Small world, isn't it?" Maccus commented.  
Weatherby suddenly had a thought. "If you saw William, did you see Elizabeth? Was she with him?"  
Jones lent back in his chair, pondering. He recalled spotting a young woman on the deck of the Black Pearl shortly before the Dutchman attacked. "Aye," he said nodding slowly. "That girl must have been Elizabeth."  
"Then she's safe!" He clasped his hands together in a prayer. "Thank heavens."  
Jones smirked. "Ah, I can't say that much. I do know that she made it off the Black Pearl before the Kraken dragged it down. But safe?"  
Governor Swann looked back at him sharply. "The Black Pearl? Gone?"  
"Aye." Jones replied, looking pleased with himself. "Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl are no more."  
"But not Elizabeth? Or William? You're sure of this?"  
"Positive. The Kraken told me that she only devoured one, and that was Jack Sparrow."  
Swann winced in sympathy. He may not have thought much of the man, but he would not have wished the Kraken on anyone, even Beckett, the man who simply looked like his old friend. . . Well, perhaps Mercer. **(A/N 1)**  
"So how do you plan to retrieve my heart? You won't be able to just walk in, pick it up and leave."  
"Actually. . . That was exactly what I was going to do."  
Jones stared at him for a minute. "And this is going to work?"  
"They won't expect it. Not from me."  
He nodded slowly. "Aye. A good point. But I'm still somewhat concerned. My life hangs in the balance if things don't go according to plan."  
"And so does the life of my daughter. I can't lose her, Jones. She's all I have left."  
A pause. "In that case, Governor Swann, I believe I can trust you."  
Weatherby looked up that, into Jones' cold blue eyes, and then down at his outstretched hand.  
"We have a deal."  
He smiled, relieved and happily shook the Captain's hand, ignoring its squishy, slimy texture and the tentacle that curled around his arm.

**A/N 1: The fact that the Kraken is female and can talk doesn't seem to surprise him. XD**

Power: This is probably going to span about 3 or 4 chapters and will end on a cliffhanger of sorts. After I watch the movie and get ideas of how far-reaching the consequences of this ficlet are, I will continue to write. Or I could leave it to your imagination. Or I could leave it for someone else to write. XD We'll see.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little outing from me.


	2. Chapter 2: The Plan

**Power: Well, there seems to be a lot of narration in this chapter. I have also fixed errors in the previous chapter.**

Chapter 2: The Plan

Governor Weatherby Swann looked up as soon as his feet touched the bottom of the longboat. Davy Jones stared back with ice blue eyes. "Remember what we discussed, Governor."  
Swann nodded and sat down. The crewman who had brought him to the ship, Koleniko was now responsible for taking him back. He pushed away from the side of the Dutchman and headed back for the harbour.  
They had decided that they would try to take back the heart today. Once the ship had finished loading, and this was not too far into the future, the Dutchman was to leave to start its pirate-hunting mission. And Jones thought that it was likely that the heart was also going to be on the ship, under the watchful eye of one Beckett's lackeys, likely to be Mercer. They had debated briefly over who should be responsible for getting who out of Beckett's office. Swann pointed out that as Beckett and himself were acquaintances, Beckett would be more likely to accept a request from him. Therefore it was up to Jones to figure out a way to keep Mercer occupied.

Three of the Dutchman's crewmembers were waiting on the jetty. They all had various items that were to be ferried across to the waiting ship. One bent down to steady the boat, the second helped Swann onto the jetty while the third and Koleniko began to load the now free boat. Swann thanked the crewman and walked back up to his awaiting carriage. He thanked the driver for waiting, and informed the man that he would prefer to walk. It was quite a way on foot back to his manor, but it would give him time to think and he thought better when he was on his feet.

Swann had more or less reached the halfway point, when he heard the clattering of a carriage approaching. He glanced over his shoulder and moved to one side to let it pass. The carriage came to a halt before him. The door swung open before the driver could get down to open it and staring back at him was none other than Lord Cutler Beckett.  
"Weatherby Swann," he said cheerfully. "I was looking for you. Would you like a lift?"  
Swann glanced up at the sun. "I thought it a nice day for a walk."  
Beckett followed his gaze, squinting, made a decision and hopped out of the carriage, shutting the door behind him. "Would you mind if I joined you?"  
Swann blinked, trying to fathom Beckett's motives. Then he added; "Old friend?"  
For a brief moment the Governor was transported back to his estate in England, where he had been introduced to the charming young man, Cutler Beckett. He had entertained the thought that Beckett would make a good match for Elizabeth when she was older. But then his beloved wife had died. He left England for Jamaica and he and Beckett had simply lost touch. Perhaps he was just making up for lost time.  
Swann smiled. "I wouldn't mind at all."  
And Beckett gave him the first genuine smile since his unexpected arrival.

The first half of the trip had not taken that long, but Weatherby Swann found it surprising how short a journey could become when one had company.  
"It would seem our journey has come to an end," Cutler Beckett remarked.  
Entirely on a whim, Swann found himself asking. "Beckett, would you be agreeable to dining at my manor this evening?"  
Beckett beamed. "I would be delighted."  
He had sent the carriage ahead to wait for him at Swann's manor and there it was. Weatherby waited politely for the carriage to leave before turning his mind to heading into his own home. When the carriage was well away from his manor, Swann had still not moved. He was thinking. He was thinking because he was confused. The mid-afternoon sun beat down on him but he did not notice. He had made a promise to, no, a deal with Davy Jones. If he were to go back on that, to say Jones would be furious was an understatement. But just now, Beckett had been the old friend he remembered. Perhaps Elizabeth would be safe in his hands after all?  
_But I don't trust him."_  
Swann frowned. That was right, he did not trust him. He remembered the way Beckett had, seemingly completely without remorse, sentenced Elizabeth to death. And of course William and James as well. What would Beckett gain from reviving their friendship? Swann's trust. Yes, just from that brief conversation, Swann had started to trust Beckett. And trust could blind people to a person's actions, however wrong they were.  
Swann's blood boiled at the thought of being taken in by that pretence of friendship. At least Davy Jones had been perfectly honest with the fact that if Swann were to get caught, not only would he do nothing to help, he would also vehemently deny any involvement in Swann's plan.  
It occurred to him that he had just found a way to get Beckett out of his office for the evening. He thought it funny how ideas often came to one when one was not thinking.

Mercer regarded the First Mate of the Flying Dutchman with an expression Maccus could not read. The First Mate glanced about Beckett's office, looking and feeling thoroughly out of place. It was all so. . . normal. He'd only been on land for a few minutes and already he wanted to be back on the Dutchman.  
"I would like to point out that I am quite accustomed to sleeping on a ship," Mercer informed him, tersely.  
Maccus sorely wanted to comment on the fact that he did not look like one who slept on a ship or off it. Instead he said, "The Dutchman is not an ordinary ship." Adding silently, "In case you hadn't noticed."  
As luck would have it, Beckett seemed to be on Jones' side. Thus, Mercer was to accustom himself to sleeping on the Dutchman for the night. Maccus tried not to shudder at the thought.

Governor Weatherby Swann glanced up at the window at the chime of the grandfather clock, indicating that Beckett was likely to be arriving shortly. Having nothing to do till the hour of truth arrived, he had confined himself to his library and was trying to read a book, but he did not have the concentration for it. He wondered if the kitchen staff had discovered that the wine had "run out" and decided to go downstairs to investigate. No wine would give him a good excuse to go down into the port proper. From there he could get into Becket's office, take the heart, reunite it with its rightful owner and be back before Beckett knew anything was amiss.

The butler hurried to open the door. He had of course been expecting Lord Cutler Beckett's arrival and was not surprised to see the man in question waiting patiently outside.  
"Lord Beckett, we've been expecting you." He moved aside to allow him to enter. "The Governor asked me to convey his apologies," he continued. "We were short stocked on wine. He took this as an opportunity to purchase your favourite brand and should not be long in returning."  
Beckett smiled. "How thoughtful."  
"The Governor also insisted that you were to be shown to the library, where you have been granted full access to all of his books, to wait for his return."  
"Lead the way."

Davy Jones stared out across the bay to the harbour. A burning lantern had drawn his attention. It was clasped in the hand of Mercer. He sighed. He truly loathed the thought of sharing any sort of space with the man, a sentiment shared by the rest of his crew, but it was hopefully going to get him his heart back, so he could put up with it for one night. Jones glanced up to where he assumed Swann's manor lay and silently wished the man luck.

**Power: Looks like things are about to kick off. :D  
I wanted to get this into the chapter, but couldn't fit it in. :(  
"Cutler. I've always regarded that as an unfortunate name."  
"You have no idea," he replied ruefully.  
XD!  
And whether or not Beckett was genuinely being friendly, or was in fact faking it is entirely up to you. Hell, I'm not even certain of it myself.**


	3. Chapter 3: Breakdown

**Power: Here it be. The final, for now, chapter. I may write a fourth. We'll see how it goes.**

Chapter 3: Breakdown

Weatherby Swann shot a look up at Cutler Beckett's office. The lights were reassuringly off. He had assumed that the carriage his own had passed was conveying Beckett to his manor. The first thing he had done when he had arrived at the harbour was to buy a bottle of Beckett's favourite wine. It could prove awkward to carry around, but he did not want to forget and then return to his manor empty handed. And if it came to it, it would make a handy weapon.

"I am not happy about your plan to just walk into his office and walk out again," Davy Jones had folded his arms.  
Maccus had nodded in agreement. "From that it sounds like you plan to do it in broad daylight."  
Swann had rubbed his chin. That was a good point. When _did_ he plan to do it? He could get in easily enough, but it would be difficult to leave with the chest. "But if I were to do it at night, how would I get in? I don't doubt that Beckett would have guards posted at his office, with orders to prevent anyone from entering with the only exception of Beckett himself and possibly Mercer."  
"Aye, my thoughts exactly. But you'd have the cover of darkness."  
"I'd need a distraction, then. One of your crew perhaps?"  
"If one my crew provides the distraction, it would make it less plausible that I was not involved in this. Are there not residents of Port Royal who bear some ill will against Becket or the East India Trading Company?"  
"A good idea. And there probably are. But they would want the EITC gone. If I could promise them that you would assist in their removal from Port Royal, I'm sure there would be some willing to help."  
Davy Jones had leaned forward to give him an evil smile. "That, I would do for free."

"How many guards, Mr. Brown?" Weatherby asked the man who was now approaching.  
"He's got quite a lot, posted around at intervals."  
Swann nodded. "As to be expected." He turned to a group of people approaching from the other direction. "Gentlemen?" He began, looking at the motley group assembled before him. "Are you ready to cause a disturbance?"  
"Ready and willing," was the general consensus. Judging from their slightly unsteady stance and the slur in their voices, they had all consumed a certain amount of alcohol before arriving, to make what was about to happen next all the more believable. Mr. Brown, the blacksmith, simply grinned, pulled the cork out of his bottle of rum with his teeth and took one long swig. To the group he said, "Let's cause trouble."  
Just as Swann had hoped, the guards declined to open fire on the unhappy and clearly drunk, residents and he waited, out of sight, as the guards manhandled them down to the jail.  
Once the group had passed, he hustled up to Beckett's office. There were no more guards, or there did not seem to be. He hurried inside.  
Fortunately Beckett had not seen fit to have the locks changed, but then the only other person to have the keys to the room, aside from Beckett and possibly Mercer, was himself.

His search for the chest that contained Jones' heart was surprisingly short. He pulled it out to have a better a look at it. It was a very unique-looking chest and must have been the one that Jones himself had kept it in. Swann saw no point in looking for the key, it was undoubtedly with Beckett himself. But the deal had been to get back the heart. Jones could worry about the key.  
He tucked the chest under one arm and picked up the bottle of wine with his free hand. Now all he had to do was get past the guards - who were still to return to their posts - on his way down to the harbour.

Evading the guards had been easy. Weatherby glanced up at the moon, wondering how long Beckett had been waiting. Davy Jones had told him that all he had to do was stand on the jetty and wait until one of the crewmembers appeared to take the heart. Jones had assured him that every one of his crew, himself included, could see perfectly well in the dark.  
He squinted. Was that a longboat being lowered? After a more few moments of squinting the unidentified object resolved itself into something that definitely looked like a longboat so he decided it was.  
His heart pounding in his chest, terrified that at any moment he would be caught, he put the wine down and cast fearful glances around at the rest of the harbour.  
The longboat pulled up beside the jetty and it took Swann a moment to register the fact that there were two people in the boat. Another to remember that Jones had specifically said he was sending one, and another to realise that the first was Koleniko, and the second figure was Mercer.  
"Good evening, Governor Swann."  
Swann cringed, painfully reminded of the night when he had tried to sneak Elizabeth out of Port Royal, which although successful ended up getting a good friend killed aswell. "Mr. Mercer," he replied a little shakily. "What are you doing here?"  
"I was on the Dutchman. Then I heard a ruckus and came out to investigate. We saw you, Governor."  
Shoot. "I see."  
Mercer nodded at the chest. "What's that you're holding? Wouldn't be the chest that contains the heart of Davy Jones, would it?"  
"Yes," he said simply.  
Koleniko went for his sword.  
Unfortunately, Mercer had expected this and struck the crewman in the throat with the side of his hand. Koleniko hunched over, gagging, only to be knocked out by the pommel of his own sword. **(A/N 1)**  
Mercer hopped up onto the jetty, the crewman's sword in one hand and held out his free hand. "The chest please, Governor."  
Reluctantly, he held out the chest, wondering how he was going to pacify Jones _and_ Beckett. "What happens to me now?" He asked once the chest was safely tucked under the other man's arm.  
"You needn't worry about that, Governor." Mercer smiled. He watched, dispassionately, as Swann, thunderstruck, reeled off Koleniko's sword and over the side of the jetty. A bottle glinting in the moonlight caught his attention as he started to walk off. He dropped the sword and picked the bottle up, checked the label and decided it would make a good peace offering.

Cutler Beckett was most surprised when Mercer turned up at Swann's manor. It was with some chagrin that he took the news of the late Swann's exploit.  
"I would have preferred the man alive," he said as he paced the room, pouring himself a glass of the wine as he did.  
"He went to a lot of trouble to get the heart. He was dangerous," Mercer replied simply.  
Beckett sighed. "Is there anything to suggest that Jones was involved?"  
"No. But I suspect he was."  
"Suspecting isn't good enough. We can't discourage him from any further attempts with anything less than solid evidence that he was involved in this one."  
"So we let this go for now?"  
"It would seem that we have no choice."

Weatherby Swann opened his eyes slowly. The last thing he remembered clearly was being stabbed and falling into the water. What followed, he could not be certain had actually happened. But he had been vaguely aware of being hauled into something and then agreeing to do something for someone he could not remember.  
"Welcome back, Mr. Swann."  
He frowned and tried to focus on the speaker, but his vision was fuzzy. The voice was familiar though. "Governor," he mumbled.  
"Not any more you're not," said the voice.  
Swann rubbed his eyes. "Who are you?"  
The voice. "Who do you think?"  
At the same time he remembered his vision refocused. "Davy Jones."  
"That's Captain to you."  
Confused he looked around his surroundings. It was unmistakeably the interior of the Flying Dutchman. And there was another occupant. A sorry looking individual with a starfish on one side of his face was perched on what looked like an upturned bucket, directly beside him.  
"Who are you?"  
"Bootstrap Bill Turner."  
He wanted to ask the man a whole bunch of questions but decided that the Captain would give him that moment later.  
"You're in the brig, if you hadn't noticed. And you will stay here until I say otherwise. Is that understood?" That was Jones.  
"But. . . But I don't know what's going on."  
Jones gave him a not-entirely-unsympathetic smile. "I'll leave Mr. Turner to explain the details. You two have a lot to talk about."  
And with that he _thunked_ away, disappearing into the shadows.

**Power:  
A/N 1: If they sleep, I'm assuming they can be knocked out as well. I mean getting KO'd is like falling asleep. Only faster. . . Yeah. . .**

Not too happy with this chappie. But I'm still interested to see how this story turns out. Just need to watch AWE before I can do that.  
And I think a fourth chapter is in order, for those wanting a meet between Swann and Bootstrap, like I do. :D


End file.
